Afire (Roter Himmel)

 

Writer/director Christian Petzold

Silver Bear Award at Berlin

cinematographer Hans Fromm setting the shot

Petzold on the set

AFIRE (Roter Himmel)                      B+                                                                                  Germany  (102 mi)  2023  d: Christian Petzold

Every day at eventide                                                                                                                  The sultan’s daughter fair                                                                                                               Wandered by the fountain                                                                                                              Where the white water purls

Every day at eventide                                                                                                                   The young slave stood by the fountain                                                                                           Where the white water purls                                                                                                          And every day his face grew paler

Then one evening the princess                                                                                          Approached him and suddenly spoke:                                                                                       “Your name I wish to know,                                                                                                           Your homeland and your tribe.”

Said the slave, “My name                                                                                                                 Is Mohamet, I come from Yemen                                                                                                      And my tribe is the Asra                                                                                                                  Who perish when they love.”

—Heinrich Heine, Der Asra (L’Asra), 1846

Winner of the Silver Bear Prize (2nd Place) at the 2023 Berlin Film Festival, German director Christian Petzold has a tendency to make surgically precise, pensively brooding films that linger long afterwards, like 2015 Top Ten List # 3 Phoenix, and 2018 Top Ten List #3 Transit, heavy historical films with contemporary implications, but this more lighthearted film is a first for him, and might even be described as a black comedy, as it similarly explores the dark mysteries of the human condition by showcasing how ridiculously blind and delusional we tend to be in pursuit of our own short-sided agendas.  Petzold was isolated with Covid at the outbreak of the pandemic, leaving him plenty of time to binge-watch the films of Éric Rohmer, as a box set of 25 films was gifted to him by Margaret Ménégoz from Les Films du Losange, his French distributor co-founded by Rohmer in 1962, while also reading Chekhov’s An Artist's Story, and any number of French and American “summer films,” which motivated him to make a series of doomed love stories loosely inspired by the classical elements of water, earth, fire, and air, starting a German Romanticism trilogy with 2020 Top Ten List #6 Undine, an allegorical tale of an elusive water nymph, while this film uses a fire motif that alerts us to catastrophic danger, yet people blithely overlook the possibilities, never even changing their normal routines until forced to do so, becoming a critique of bourgeois self-obsession.  Due to pandemic restrictions, Petzold was forced to deviate from his familiar shooting style, using a small crew and just a few actors while staging this film quite differently, unable to show the physical presence of bodies during sex (sound replaces what we normally see), yet there’s plenty of fun to be had in this mesmerizing standoff between love and nature, while also chock full of surprises that may catch viewers off-guard, with plenty of misunderstandings, embarrassments, and humiliation in this quietly atmospheric study of artistic isolation and ego.  The ambiguity that pervades throughout this slow comedy of manners is most intriguing, where you keep waiting for something to happen, with Petzold literally toying with the audience, and nothing turns out the way you expect.  This is a deliriously existential tale told through the perspective of one of the characters, Leon (Thomas Schubert), an unlikeable Fassbinder style protagonist (even bearing a slight resemblance), a one-time successful writer who is having trouble with his second book, satirically entitled Club Sandwich (recalling Charles Bukowski’s Ham on Rye), facing an artistic crisis when he retreats from Berlin to the tranquility of a vacation home in Ahrenshoop on the coast of the Baltic Sea in the former GDR with his friend Felix (Langston Uibel).  A deeply reflective film divided between desire and reason, symbolism and realism, comedy and tragedy, certainly one of the fascinating aspects is the dreamlike opening music (“Love’s gonna make us blind”) from Austrian siblings known as Wallners that bookends the film, lulling viewers into a false sense of security as they drive through the forest to get to the sea, WALLNERS // IN MY MIND (Official Video) - Vimeo (4:12), and while the beauty of the natural landscape is intoxicating, there is a sudden jolt of silence and disappointment when the car breaks down miles from their destination, stopped dead in their tracks in an isolated forested area with no cellphone reception, yet Felix believes he knows a shortcut through the woods to his family’s summer cottage.  With Leon left alone with the eerie sounds of nature, we’re immediately attuned to feelings of dread, as any number of possibilities might spark disaster in a horror film, beautifully captured by Petzold’s longtime cinematographer Hans Fromm, literally soaked in poetic realism, yet the first order of business is making a mental adjustment, as all is not what it seems, though every moment feels like a constant discovery.  Like Neil Simon’s The Odd Couple, a dark cloud follows the grumpy Leon wherever he goes, constantly annoyed, always finding something to whine about even in the best of times, a seriously repressed, high maintenance guy stuck in his own head who believes his opportunities are being swept away.  Finding himself on the outside looking in, like a distant and detached observer, he literally shuns the world around him, which allows us to see him through the perspective of others, while Felix, ever the optimist and openly expressive, has a completely different outlook, seen patiently saving the day, but they are both exhausted hauling all their luggage in the dark the rest of the way.   

More surprises await them, as dirty dishes, half-eaten food, an unmade bed, and empty wine glasses greet them upon their arrival, so the house already has a guest, retreating into a spare bedroom only to be awakened in the middle of the night from the relentless sounds of sex coming from an adjoining room, driving Leon outside, sleeping under the stars, where he’s forced to contend with pesky mosquitoes.  So the lay of the land is not ideal, as apparently they’ll be sharing the retreat with a stranger who’s already nabbed the larger room, someone they’ve heard but not yet seen, only catching a glimpse of her before she dashes off on her bicycle the next morning, finally allowing Leon some peace and quiet, choosing the garden gazebo as a place to write, while Felix heads off to the beach for a swim, which is just a short distance away through the woods.  Of course, Leon inevitably gets sidetracked, not really in the mood to write, so instead he stupidly throws a tennis ball off the walls of the house as a means to pass the time before scrounging around in the other guest’s room, searching for clues, listening to their music, before absurdly racing back to his laptop computer when he hears Felix returning to make it look like he’s seriously lost in thought.  The stage is set, as Leon is a snobbish, self-absorbed artist who thinks only of himself, as if art is only attainable for the fortunate few, while Felix, an aspiring photographer himself, is extraordinarily accommodating, where they are at opposite ends of the spectrum.  Add to the mix Nadja (Paula Beer in another one of her woman of mystery roles making her third film with Petzold), an upbeat and intelligent woman living the weightless summer fantasy who sells ice cream out of a cart in town but wants to make amends for the nocturnal inconvenience by inviting them both for dinner, joining her current boyfriend Devid (Enno Trebs), who is a lifeguard at the beach, though he prefers “rescue swimmer.”  Both Leon and Felix happened to run into him at his beachside post earlier in the day, but only Felix spent any time getting to know him, with Leon playing the part of a tormented artist, dressed entirely in black, including long sleeves, standing out from everybody else, brazenly calling attention to himself, as he hates the beach and anything connected to physical activity, while the more jovial Felix was completely relaxed and ready to enjoy the sea, spending much of his time assembling photographic material for admission into a prestigious Berlin art school.  As in Rohmer’s PAULINE ON THE BEACH (1983) or A Summer's Tale (Conte d'été) (1996), mood and conversations are cheerful, as the dinner out under the open sky has an idyllic nature to it, with Devid providing a long-winded narration that has Nadja beaming with delight, while Leon looks bored, as if he couldn’t care less, but the heightened interest in the story catches both men off-guard, as the carefully calculated payoff turns into an opportunity for a quick kiss with Felix, which is completely unexpected, yet the whole point of it all.  Leon is literally sneering with arrogant disdain, believing he is intellectually superior, wondering why he is wasting his time instead of working on his book, condescendingly looking down on them as if they hardly matter at all, exhibiting paternalistic derision, while at the same time he is interested in and completely distracted by Nadja, but is unable to express his feelings, remaining shy and overly wary.  Petzold has a history as a provocateur, intentionally stirring things up, and with Leon he’s created a loathsome and unsympathetic character, continually seen sulking, looking for all the world like a hypocrite, yet he’s the one carrying the story, hilariously missing everything that’s happening all around him.  In what appears to be a fitting tribute to Sofia Coppola, Petzold alters his style, where it seems like nothing of any consequence is happening, yet a different kind of language is being communicated by subdued emotions, simple gestures, and furtive eye contact, where a wordless chamber drama is taking place before our eyes using only the subtlest of details, a subconscious reality that remains an enigma for viewers, like a puzzle that needs to be assembled, creating an unforgettable film about smoldering love, longing, and transience.    

None of them feel threatened by the sheer size of a growing forest fire that is alarming, as the wind direction away from the water makes them believe they are safe, yet they can see the red sky off in the distance, with the constant drone of helicopters buzzing past carrying loads of water.  The Autobahn is closed nearby, some resort towns have already been evacuated, with panic and alarm dominating the news reports, but not for this motley crew.  The unhurried pace of the film is typical of Rohmer’s style, where the formation of casual relationships takes center stage, accentuating the interpersonal in a beachside setting that allows for a summertime fantasy escape from the problems of the real world.  What’s so amusing is Leon’s response to this idyllic getaway, as whenever he’s invited to go for a swim with the others at the beach, he shows little curiosity and refuses to have a good time, where his standard answer is “My work won’t allow it,” which even he finds ridiculous, where the more obnoxious he acts, the more he despises himself, but it’s part of his act as a supposed serious writer to be socially aloof and pretentiously evasive, with no time for anyone, obsessed only with his own talent.  When Nadja offers to read his manuscript, he quickly rejects her, but seeing her disenchanted reaction to his dismissiveness, has second thoughts, plagued by self-doubt, growing ever more desperate and unsure.  When she decides to read it right there on the spot, he looks like a lost puppy waiting to be reunited with its owner, fidgeting around the grounds in sheer discomfort.  But when she renders her verdict that it’s positively dreadful, the decisiveness leaves him cold, deciding she’s only an ice cream vendor.  What does she know?  The real verdict will come from his editor, Helmut (Matthias Brandt), and he’s twisted himself into knots in anticipation of his expected arrival, where they plan to spend the weekend going over his manuscript together, placing great importance on the outcome.  When Helmut finally arrives he can only spend the night, and rather than go to a restaurant in town, he’d prefer to have dinner with the collected group, which infuriates Leon, having so little time, wanting him all to himself.  The theatrical nature of the dinner is a thing of beauty, as Helmut takes serious interest in everyone’s artistic ambitions except Leon, who he religiously avoids, leaving him silently fuming in disgust.  One by one he explores both Felix and Nadja’s projects that they’re working on, offering genuine interest and positive feedback, especially for Nadja’s Doctoral interest in German poet Heinrich Heine (Heinrich Heine: A Life of Contradictions), a contemporary of musicians Robert Schumann and Franz Schubert whose poetry was used as lyrics for German Lieder.  Steeped in his typical formal precision, Petzold, who was trained as a literary scholar, similarly draws from earlier artworks to transform his own, exploring the possibilities of his own perspective, where the film is a testament that art is not the purview of some exclusive club, available only for the serious-minded, but is a human activity that is moved precisely by the artist’s ability to connect with others, to touch the heart, where the big questions of life can be found in the most unspectacular moments and encounters.  The jaw-dropping scene of the film is the discovery that Nadja is not just a seasonal worker but a literary scholar as she recites one of Heine’s poems from memory about a tribe “who perish when they love,” a deeply moving moment that simply dumbfounds Leon by adding a touch of literary intellectualism, never seeing that coming, suddenly realizing he’s not the most impressive intellect of the group, making him feel terribly small, as if crushed like a bug.  What elevates this film is a sudden change in tone that comes late, with a glorious nighttime phenomenon of bioluminescence on the water when “the sea shines” that references Rohmer’s Le Rayon Vert (Summer) (1986), veering into unexplored territory that beautifully mixes dark humor with full-blown tragedy, where Leon is simply befuddled by it all, experiencing his own existential transformation that comes out of nowhere, with viewers similarly emerging regenerated, with the film projecting into our own interiority and sensitivity to the world.  When ash finally falls from the sky like heavy snowflakes, it’s one of the most gorgeous shots of the film, while the flames on the horizon that had always felt like a metaphor for desire, seemingly so far away, suddenly draw near, as the rhythm, tone, and genre of the film are completely transformed with dizzying speed, becoming a hauntingly intense and complex experience that will leave viewers flummoxed.  

Christian Petzold's Closet Picks Criterion picks, YouTube (5:08) 

Princess Cyd

  

Director Stephen Cone on the set with producer Grace Hahn

    

PRINCESS CYD                   B+                  

USA  (96 mi)  2017 d:  Stephen Cone

This is an atypical coming-of-age tale that cleverly entwines youthful exploration with what normally passes for a midlife crisis, though in this near idyllic setting of neighborhood Chicago there is a pungent smell of sweetness that seems to define life for both young and old, providing an exuberantly optimistic view about the unfolding challenges that await us at every stage, and while there’s no overwhelming dramatic issues, this is a small gem of a film that explores the intricacies of daily living, finding pleasures in tiny details often overlooked, offering a surprising amount of probing intelligence in such a brief period of time.  Winner of the Chicago Award at the Chicago Film Festival in 2017, the director is a professor at Northwestern University who is a transplant from South Carolina with a religious upbringing, raised by a Southern Baptist pastor father, where an understated morality pervades, but it’s more new age, with an accent on tolerance and love, which apparently starts with accepting yourself.  These parameters are open for exploration throughout, never rigidly fixed, but the openness of this gentle Rohmeresque journey is simply sublime.  Opening with a 911 call, an unseen tragedy occurs, the full extent of which we don’t realize until near the end, with the film picking up in an aftermath 9-years later as we are introduced to a survivor from that incident, 16-year old freckle-faced Cyd (Jessie Pinnick) making her presence felt on the soccer field in Columbia, South Carolina.  A call is made by her exasperated single father (her mother killed in the opening) to an aunt in Chicago, Miranda Ruth (Rebecca Spence), who still lives in the same home where she (and her sister) grew up, proposing Cyd spend a few weeks in the summer paying a visit, suggesting the change would do her good.  And just like that, Cyd arrives at Miranda’s door, offered the same room that was her mother’s, pointing out there’s a nice reading area, but Cyd bluntly responds, “I don’t read,” asking instead for the Wi-Fi codes (which have literary references, of course), immediately hooking up on the Internet.  We soon learn Miranda is an accomplished writer of several books, famous enough to be recognized in public, with strangers coming up to her asking for autographs, where her literary background is her career, with a social life built around readings and academia, which seems to be the farthest thing from Cyd’s mind.  Instead she goes out for a morning run, stopping at a local coffee shop afterwards asking for directions, where she happens to run into Katie (Malic White), a boyish looking tomboy wearing an androgynous Mohawk strip that catches her eye.

Meanwhile, Miranda is reviewing the work of a striving first-time novelist, Anthony (James Vincent Meredith), a handsome black man separated from his wife, where throughout the film there are implied innuendo’s about a developing relationship, but she’s all business, offering an extremely critical assessment that would have him discard nearly two-thirds of what he’s written, which comes as a bit of a shock for Anthony, who’s not sure what to make of this excoriation, obviously invested in the material he’s written.  Cyd arrives back home at the tail end of the discussion and after a quick shower, heads into the back yard to lie in the sun.  What’s of interest here is not what’s happening, but the reactions to what’s happening, as the director is carefully illuminating internalized characterization through subtle differences that are not entirely off-putting, but noticeable, even at times jarring, suggesting these small events have profound effects in the trajectories of our lives.  Cyd’s interest in sunbathing piques the interest of Miranda, as that’s not something she’d dream of doing herself, but she’s curious about the things that Cyd likes, perhaps retracing her own adolescence, though her interactions with Cyd thus far have been awkward at best.  Cyd’s free-spirited and open acceptance of her own body is probably the exact opposite of how Miranda felt at that age, safely retreating into introspection, while Cyd simply blurts out whatever she thinks or feels, often uncomfortably, but her honesty, and the film’s awareness of it, feels like a breath of fresh air, as it’s heartwarming to see a relatively happy teenager, even though the backdrop of her story is so traumatizing.  Within a day or so, Miranda is in the backyard with Cyd sunning herself as well, like a girl bonding experience, when Cyd calls out the obvious, asking when the last time was when she had sex.  For Cyd, this is at the forefront of her curiosity, while in Miranda’s repressed world of academia, this thought has been sealed off in mothballs, completely off limits, as if in quarantine.  Just this simple question, however, has reverberations, as it means something so completely different to each one at the differing stages of their lives.  Thankfully, no judgments are made, as this kind of honest and open inquisitiveness is a central thread of the film, as a novelist with any skill applies this same process to themselves, constantly internalizing their thoughts in search of new ideas. 

When Cyd returns to the coffee shop, she and Katie have an instant chemistry, perfectly expressed on a rooftop setting where a film crew shooting nearby calls out for them to slow dance and pretend they’re in love, mistaking them for a girl and boy, which the couple doesn’t correct, going with the flow.  When Katie recognizes one of Miranda’s books, describing it as an influence, suddenly her aunt doesn’t seem so distant, growing more curious about her.  Miranda’s life revolves around literary social gatherings, something rarely seen in films, causing Cyd to search through Katie’s wardrobe to find something to wear, settling on a tuxedo outfit worn to the prom, allowing Cyd to make an impressive entrance, easily a focus of interest, as she’s the youngest thing there, where the interaction with others is strangely forward, yet revealing, particularly when she asks an older lesbian couple how they discovered they liked women, a question obviously dominating her own mindset, but the playful interchange grows humorous, with the adults turning the tables, asking what she likes, hesitating a bit before stammering, “I like everything.”  While still processing her burgeoning sexuality, the evening focuses upon readings, where we hear the voices of Emily Dickenson or James Joyce, or described personal experiences that may actually be a bit of living fiction, remaining ambiguous whether or not they actually happened, which adds to the curiosity surrounding the personal nature of the material.  Like any teenager, she soon grows tired of listening, preferring to retreat into her bedroom with the youngest boy there to smoke pot and make out, with more likely to happen had they not been interrupted by his parents who were leaving, wondering what happened to him.  There’s a beautiful monologue by Miranda afterwards, clarifying her own sense of personal autonomy, suggesting it doesn’t revolve around men or a relationship, that she’s perfectly comfortable in her own skin, where one of the joys of her life is spending hours reading Melville or Virginia Woolf, or talking endlessly discussing T.S. Eliot or James Baldwin with a friend.  The gist of it is that no one way is the right way, that everyone’s experiences are unique, leaving the road to happiness wide open, where there are no rules.  As the evening winds down, Cyd finally contacts Katie, who’s been attacked by one of her male roommates who remains passed out in a drunken stupor, not wanting to be there when he wakes up.  Miranda goes into protective mode, sheltering the girl from the storm, which opens another door for the two girls to finally explore, all shot with a poetic sensibility.  One of the strengths of the film is the complexity of the female characters, who are extremely well developed, surrounding them with secondary characters that are equally fascinating, continually probing at what’s underneath the surface, becoming a delicate journey of self-discovery.